


Dumb Dads AU

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Series: Dumb Dads AU [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, M/M, Multi, Pairings will expand eventually, Rating will go up eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Verstael and Ardyn and their flustered, bemused, attempts to raise both Prompto and Noctis in Nifleheim. Each chapter is a vignette.
Relationships: Verstael Besithia/Ardyn Izunia
Series: Dumb Dads AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577530
Comments: 30
Kudos: 110





	1. Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely wanted to come back to this AU. I have like 12 chapters in mind but we'll see what happens. Each chapter is fairly self contained and are meant to be taken as snippets/short stories from this universe. POV character will change chapter by chapter. As Noctis and Prompto grow there will also be more ships and the rating could skyrocket at any moment.

It’s just a normal day up North, cold and wild, when a Lucian infiltrator tries to abscond with one of Verstael’s specimens.

They scramble to put the laboratory in lockdown but the Lucian manages to escape out a loading bay into the mountains. It’s arguably rougher terrain up the mountain but its considerably harder to follow the Lucian in that direction. It would easier if he took the fast route down the well managed roads into the outpost town where the airfield and railway bring Verstael supplies.

Verstael stands in the snow, fuming and frazzled, and Ardyn watches the Lucian scurry out of range of Verstael’s rifle.

Verstael turns to Ardyn, puffed up, imploring, and Ardyn just chuckles.

“Be right back, Dear.” He sings.

Ardyn doesn’t catch the Lucian but in the scuffle that ensues, wherein the Lucian offloads two clips of handgun ammunition into Ardyn, he does manage to reclaim the specimen. The Lucian, evidently deciding Ardyn is not worth fucking with, keeps running. Hopefully he’ll die in the oncoming blizzard. 

The specimen is a clone; generic MT base, not yet accelerated and otherwise unmodified save his identifying barcode. He’s tiny, in human terms barely two months old, just learning to master the facial contortion they call smiling.

Verstael takes the specimen back from Ardyn’s hands. Ardyn’s wrapped the tiny thing in his coat. Ardyn can withstand worse than subzero temperatures but an unmodified MT base isn’t so sturdy. Verstael unwraps him, frustrated by the whole ordeal, but finds to his surprise that despite all the jostling the clone’s undamaged. No hypothermia, no frostbite, nothing. He’s perfect.

Verstael sags, half relived, but it becomes very quickly apparent he can’t just put the babe back into chemical storage.

The clone gargles at him, groping at Ardyn’s coat with tiny fingers. Most of the MT bases are heavily sedated. They’re barely cognisant in between storage shifts. This one? This one’s awake. It’s had several hours of stimulation and human touch. It’s not a lifeless template anymore. It’s… It’s a baby.

It’s his genetic material, almost exactly, and it's blinking up at him with big, glistening, eyes. It’s little feet kick against his forearm. It fusses, not quite hungry or uncomfortable but genuinely curious.

The whole thing makes Verstael uncomfortable.

His discomfort must show in his face.

“Something wrong?” Ardyn supposes.

“It’s broken.” Verstael murmurs tightly. “I can’t use it like this.”

“You can’t just sedate it again?” Ardyn tilts his head, patient but picking at some vulnerable edge of a thought that’s lingering unspoken between both of them.

“Too many variables.” Verstael sighs. “I have to…”

Verstael destroys specimens all the time, that’s normal. But, usually, they’re not cognisant. Usually when Verstael kills something it’s never truly been alive.

“Here,” Ardyn holds his arms out, “I’ll take it.”

“You?” Verstael scoffs, reflexively gathering his prize closer. “What’re you going to do with a baby?”

“Same thing you’re going to do,” Ardyn counters, gently amused. “You’re just going to dither about it longer, darling.”

“We…” Verstael glances down but very quickly diverts his eyes away, hissing; “we don’t need a baby, Ardyn.”

“Perhaps,” Ardyn shrugs, “but we’ve got one.”

Verstael fumbles, wanting to argue but not sure the right words.

“You…” Verstael feels his stomach flip over in a cold twist. “You have to name him.”

“Alright,” Ardyn agrees.

Conceding, surrendering, Verstael hands the baby boy back to Ardyn.

Ardyn gathers the urchin up and disappears with him back to the domestic wing most of Verstael and Ardyn’s lives revolve around. Just like that. Just out of nowhere. There’s a baby.

Ardyn names him Prompto.

* * *

Verstael is slower at the whole thing than Ardyn. Ardyn has some deep buried instinct that enables him to dote on small children. Verstael helps, as best he can, but his attempts at bathing and changing prove sometimes uncertain and other times merely robotic. He just doesn’t know how to close the gap.

Ardyn stays as long as he can but, eventually, he has to return to Gralea for a few weeks. The Ministry can’t function without him forever, not if they ever want to secure control of the Empire for themselves.

“I can take him,” Ardyn offers.

“No,” Verstael decides. “That would be ridiculous. It can stay here with me.”

Verstael catches the contradiction in his phrasing. He can’t help but use ‘ _it_ ’ despite himself. Ardyn doesn’t draw attention to the slip up, seems to sense it frustrates Verstael enough already, and just nods patiently. Verstael hates it when Ardyn looks at him like that; like he knows something Verstael doesn’t. They’re supposed to be partners. Ardyn’s not supposed to be running a scheme without him.

Verstael scrunches up his face but maintains his composure.

The first few days are honestly torture.

Verstael sends most of the assistants away to work in other parts of the facility and tries to juggle his research around the impulses of a baby. It’s difficult. Sometimes Prompto starts crying for seemingly no reason and refuses to stop.

That’s…

It’s not exactly true.

Verstael sort of understands the reason. Prompto wants stimulation. He wants someone to talk to him, to croon at him, but Verstael just can’t seem to put his heart into it. Ardyn weaselled his way into Verstael’s heart somehow, fuck knows how, but if Verstael could replicate the ease of that feeling right now he’d cut off his own right hand to sate the gods who gave him the secret.

Verstael buries his face in his hands and groans brokenly.

“Ugh,” he whines, “ _what?_ I don’t know what you want from me!”

Prompto maintains that same howling screech.

Verstael growls exasperatedly to himself and, pulling his hair out, finds that accursed baby sling Ardyn makes frequent use of.

“Alright, listen up,” he tells the infant. “I’m going to work whether you like it or not. You’re just going to have to deal. Alright? Understood?”

He tucks Prompto against his chest in the sling, strapped against him, and Prompto whimpers insistently but Verstael continues his tirade stubbornly;

“Do you have any idea how much work I have to do today? I’m behind on sampling and if I don’t figure it out today I’ll have to redo all the cultures. I know you don’t care, you’re a baby, but we can’t all spend every waking moment getting coddled, Prompto.” 

Verstael doesn’t realize at first, busying himself around the lab, adjusting to the feel of Prompto in the sling but—

Verstael pauses.

“Oh now you shut up?” He huffs down at the infant. “This is all it takes? Holding you and lecturing you? Gods! You’re as bad as he is! Lectures aren’t meant to be soothing.”

Prompto fidgets a little, watching what little of the world he can spy out the gap in the sling, but he doesn’t seem to be upset anymore. He just seems settled, content. Someone’s talking to him, a familiar voice, and he’s close to someone. That seems to be enough.

“Gods, you’re absolutely ludicrous,” Verstael sighs. Still…

Verstael doesn’t want to push his luck so he decides not to put Prompto down and, for good measure, if the brat likes the sound of his voice he’ll keep talking to him.

“Can I work now? Hmm?” He supposes. “Alright, if we’re in agreement, I have some cultures to sample. You have no idea what Starscourge is, I’m sure, but if some crazed Lucian hadn’t kidnapped you I would’ve injected you with the stuff. Funny how that works, isn’t it? Now I’ve got to carry you around. Is this karma?”

Verstael continues to chatter, stopping only when Prompto falls asleep and snores nasally against him.

It helps at least. He can work now. Now Prompto’s not screaming at him, that is. He feels a little ridiculous but much less so than he did earlier.

When Prompto wakes and starts kicking, hungry, Verstael greets him with a scoff; “Clocking back in huh? Lazy bones.”

Prompto’s considerably easier to deal with when Verstael just talks to him and, frankly, talking to him gets considerably easier with practice.

That evening, when Verstael finally decides to go to bed, he has a choice to make. He could leave Prompto in the crib they ordered up from further south but the bed’s cold and lonely with Ardyn gone. So, without quite computing what he’s doing, Verstael tucks the baby into bed with him and falls asleep.

Prompto sleeps almost the whole night, coddled up.

Somewhere across the next few weeks, carrying the baby in a sling incessantly, sleeping with him in the bed… Verstael starts to relax. He’s not sure what the trick is, not really, but he just feels easier in his skin. Prompto’s here now. Prompto just is. There’s no arguing with it. And, once Verstael accepts he’s not a complete tyrant, he starts to laugh again. Prompto, for all his demanding, _can_ be cute. He is endearing. Sort of. None of it comes easily, mind you, but it comes eventually.

When Ardyn returns on the late night transport six weeks later Verstael and Prompto are already in bed.

Verstael wakes when the door to the bedroom opens but doesn’t bother sitting up.

“Dear,” Ardyn whispers, “room for one more?”

“Just don’t crush him,” Verstael yawns groggily, helping Ardyn rearrange the blankets.

One kiss is planted on Prompto’s head, another on Verstael’s lips, and somehow… 

Verstael doesn’t do overly gooey, that’s not his thing, but he does fall in love. He’s not a complete monster. Eventually he even falls in love with Prompto.

Eventually, this all starts to feel right.


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand now there's Noctis!

When he was six months old the Six declared the newest Lucius Caelum as their Chosen King and Verstael’s wheels have been spinning ever since.

This operation has been in the works for almost two years. They can’t involve the Niff military, its too risky, and it would work counter intuitively to their own goals. No, Ardyn has to do this alone. Sneak all the way back into Lucius, into Insomnia no less, and make it all the way back to Verstael with no back up and a potentially resistant toddler. 

Prompto, like the little Prince, is three years old now. Every night the Ministry calls asking Verstael when Ardyn will be returning from his laboratory or available for conference calling and, every night, Prompto asks where Ardyn is. Verstael has to work overtime to maintain the ruse for Gralea. No one can know Ardyn’s left the country. If Lucius becomes aware the Chancellor was unaccounted for while their prophesied Prince is stolen? It’ll start another war and, sure, they’re prepared for war but they have a schedule. 

The Prince was declared missing seven days ago. Lucius has been in almost a complete lockdown ever since. Tonight Verstael puts Prompto to bed once again, forges Ardyn’s signature on a few more documents and stares worriedly at his cellphone waiting for something, _anything_.

Ardyn’s cell isn’t even on. If it pings off a cellphone tower that’s a record he’s not where he’s supposed to be. Verstael tries calling regardless just to listen to the disconnection message.

He hates feeling this useless. The waiting during covert operations is the worst part.

His pad pings on the bedside table.

 _[SECURITY PASS ACCEPTED AT LOWER GATE_ ]

Verstael lurches out of bed.

He throws on his dressing gown and his boots, fully prepared to walk in the snow, and takes the pad out of the domestic wing down to the hangar entrance.

He types away, trying to tap into he sensors with his tired fingers.

 _[MOVEMENT AT POINT 26. CAMERA FEED INCOMING._ ]

It’s dark and the night vision can’t pick up much in the snow but Verstael can make out a vehicle and the heat signatures read temperatures higher than those you would suspect of a regular human, heck higher than Verstael would expect of Ardyn by his lonesome.

Verstael lingers, waiting.

[ _SECURITY PASS ACCEPTED AT HANGAR BAY SIDE GATE. OPENING GATE._ ]

Verstael hurries off the gangway down to the steel door.

Ardyn pulls up. The vehicle’s obviously been commandeered from down in the outpost town at the base of the mountain. It’s got snow tires but it’s not military grade. Verstael suspects they’ll be returning it to Ardyn’s outpost drinking buddy Hans in the morning.

Ardyn steps out, hefts and turns to Verstael with his prize all bundled up.

Verstael hesitates, just for a second, but he agreed to this madness so…

Ardyn gives him that smug, tired, grin as he approaches and Verstael manages his own uncertain relief.

“Hey,” Verstael greets.

“Hey,” Ardyn croaks back, tucking his face down into the bundle and whispering; “Psst, you going to say hello?”

The stolen Prince lifts his head off Ardyn’s shoulder. The clothes he’s wearing don’t fit him but he’s been bundled against the cold as best Ardyn could probably manage on short notice. Ardyn pushes the adult hood back off his head and the little Lucian rubs at his eyes.

“Hi?” He greets.

Verstael finds himself lurching, surprised.

He’s tiny, like Prompto. Pale and dark all at once. But those eyes…

Ardyn’s got the most handsome eyes, golden and warm. Their little Prince has the same superhuman eyes but in a delightful shade of electric blue. He blinks at Verstael, eyes sparked with that same unnatural knowingness, and seems at once more creature than infant.

Verstael, who has spent a very long time in Ardyn’s company, never expected others of similar make and model could exist. Now, faced with one such creature, feeling its unmistakable vibrations, Verstael is instantly intrigued. The scientist in him is just dying to do Obs. 

“Hey,” Verstael laughs weakly, coming close enough to buffet the little boy between both their bodies. “Nice to meet you.”

“He’s sleepy,” Ardyn chuckles indulgently. “Noctis, this is Verstael.”

Noctis fumbles round the word for a second but it’s certainly not a name he would’ve heard in Lucius.

“You can call me Vers,” the blonde Niff promises.

“Vers,” Noctis repeats, testing.

“Right,” Verstael nods, unable to resist the urge to tap the tiny creature’s button nose. Noctis grins, tired but amused, and Verstael tries to convince himself this little creature is real.

“I think it’s bedtime.” Ardyn declares. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hmm…” Noctis rubs at his face. “Yeah…”

“Is everything ready?” Ardyn supposes.

“Yeah,” Verstael nods diligently, unable to quite tear his eyes away from the pair of them.

“Hear that?” Ardyn bounces the boy in his arms. “Vers has even gotten a room ready for you.”

“No,” Noctis huffs. “Dun wanna.”

“But you’re sleepy,” Ardyn snorts, patiently prepared to argue. Evidently they’ve had several arguments already. Verstael supposes princes are prone to being stubbornly spoilt and Ardyn’s kin? Absolute devils no doubt.

“No wanna,” Noctis yawns but persists. “No be alone.”

“You’ll have Carbuncle,” Ardyn argues.

“No,” Noctis whines, face scrunching up into a pout.

“Oh alright…” Ardyn sighs, throwing his head back. “If you ask Vers nicely maybe you can stay with us tonight.”

“Vers?” Noctis turns.

“Yeah, I think we can manage that,” Verstael permits. “But you better not be a blanket hog.”

“Oh he’s the _worst,_ ” Ardyn warns.

“I’m going to freeze to death,” Verstael snorts, head shaking.

* * *

Carbuncle turns out to be a stuffed toy. It’s a very strange thing. Verstael’s never seen a design quite like it but it’s obviously been lovingly handcrafted by someone very talented, probably a royal seamstress, and Noctis clutches it very tight.

Tucked between Ardyn and Verstael their stolen princeling falls asleep almost instantly. Verstael doesn’t mind. Prompto often crawls into bed when Ardyn is home and sometimes when it’s just the Besithia blondes.

Even sleeping Noctis doesn’t quite look like a human child. He’s got this… Verstael can’t describe it. He’s heard Arydn use the word _‘aura_ ’ before but Verstael still doesn’t quite understand it. It’s a very Lucian thing.

Verstael knew Lucius Caelums were magical, very much like Ardyn, but he didn’t expect to get the same surreal feeling around a modern model. Maybe it’s because Noctis is chosen? Imbued with divine power? Who knows, either way Verstael is quietly delighted to have another fascinating specimen under his roof.

Verstael strokes the child’s hair while he sleeps, watching him in the low, low, light as his eye lids start to twitch with dreams.

“He’s the spitting image of Somnus,” Ardyn whispers from the opposing pillow, arm over the little boy grasping Verstael’s hip through the blankets.

“He feels like you…” Verstael continues to reel.

“That’s the magic. He has a great deal already and he’s only going to get stronger.”

“He seems so calm,” Verstael whispers, “I’m surprised he’s not more distressed?”

“You’d think I rescued him, honestly,” Ardyn agrees. “I don’t know much about current royal protocol but he…. It’s like no one’s ever held him. I’ve barely been able to put him down.”

Touch starved.

Verstael chews on the words, stroking the bridge of the tiny nose.

“He’s their messiah. I imagine they’ve kept him in a glass castle of protocol and propriety.” Verstael supposes. “What did you tell him, in the end…?”

“The truth,” Ardyn shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m family and together we’re going to save the world.”

“He believed you?”

“Not at first,” Ardyn admits, “but I can do things only a Lucius Caelum can do.”

“His father? He didn’t…?”

“He hasn’t mentioned him,” Ardyn remarks, equally surprised. “I don’t think he sees the King much. He’s been more concerned about someone called _Iggy_.”

“ _Iggy?_ ” Verstael snorts.

“Perhaps an aid?” Ardyn wonders. “He’s a little too young to explain it clearly to me. But he liked them and he misses them.”

“Hmm…” Verstael tucks his arm around the boy. “It doesn’t matter in the end. He’s here, with us.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Ardyn sighs.

“We’ll get him a birth certificate and passport, same way we got Prompto’s,” Verstael begins ticking of in his head. “We sticking to the story we agreed on?”

“I think so,” Ardyn nods, “my orphaned nephew. At least until he’s old enough to return to Lucius.”

“Another Izunia,” Verstael snorts fondly. “However will I cope with two?”

“With grace and poise, as always.”

“I suspect Prompto’s going to be a little surprised.” Verstael murmurs.

“He’s always saying he wants a playmate.” Ardyn chuckles.

“Hmm, yes,” Verstael concedes, “but being an only child has certain advantages.”

“You get used to a brother,” Ardyn replies softly. “I did.”

“That’s true…” Verstael yawns.

“Sleep,” Ardyn urges. “We’ll handle it in the morning.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” Verstael whispers, eyes closing groggily.

“Glad to be home,” Ardyn promises.

* * *

The morning promises to be interesting. Prompto has always been shy with other children and extended play with other noble tots in Gralea often makes him anxious. Like his father Prompto seems to much prefer the security of their isolated home and his two wicked guardians.

Verstael wakes late. He usually does when Ardyn’s home. His body seems to unlace and relax only in the presence of his nasty mate. If Ardyn is away Verstael has to be big, tough. He has to protect their assets. If Ardyn is home he can delegate some of the wickedness.

When Verstael stirs little Noctis is still tucked against him with his Carbuncle toy. Verstael lays there, in the warm sheets, and listens carefully to the soft noises in the domestic wing. He can smell bacon, delicious bacon, and he’s sure Ardyn has the radio on. Perfect. Flawless.

Verstael nudges their stolen babe gently but Noctis is slow to rise.

“Dun wanna…” The tot murmurs.

“Breakfast.” Verstael tempts.

Noctis doesn’t want to sit up and walking is out of the question it seems but Verstael has his tricks. Slipping out of bed Verstael puts his dressing gown back on and pulls Noctis up off the bed into his arms. Noctis doesn’t at all resist the handling, quite the contrary; he curls his little hands in Verstael’s collar and once Verstael has him up Noctis slowly starts to get with the program. As Verstael carries him out of the master bedroom into the lounge he can feel the Prince blinking groggily against his neck in the changing light.

In the kitchen Verstael finds Ardyn in a similar position. Prompto seems to have a sixth sense for when his favourite parent is home and he’s already on Ardyn’s hip being directed to stir the scrambled eggs. Ardyn never concerns himself with petty things like mess or potential injuries. Which is frankly why toddlers seem to fucking love him.

“Morning,” Verstael greets.

“Morning Darling,” Ardyn calls over the radio.

“What’s the turn around time like on this one in the morning?” Verstael grunts, chin jerking down to the Prince in his arms.

“Food helps.” Ardyn shrugs. “But he’s mostly very quiet before about ten thirty.”

“I see you already found your biggest fan,” Verstael snorts, taking his seat and letting Noctis stir slowly. It doesn’t bother him to have another toddler in his arms.

“Can’t start the morning without Sunshine,” Ardyn jokes to Prompto’s immediate delight. Verstael’s not sure Prompto understands the joke but he knows he’s ‘ _Sunshine’_ and just being acknowledged excites him.

Prompto’s so wrapped up with Ardyn and Noctis is so groggy that the two toddlers don’t even seem to realise the other exists.

That said when Verstael shifts Noctis to his own seat and Ardyn puts Prompto down to start dishing up breakfast their eyes meet. Prompto blinks, startled, and jerks to Verstael for explanation. Because if something weird is going on then obviously it’s Verstael’s fault.

“Prom this is Noct,” Verstael takes the cup of coffee Ardyn dutifully presents him with, sipping. “He’s going to live with us.”

Prompto tries to compute that and just shakes his head dumbly. “No,” he insists. “No Vers.”

Verstael shrugs.

“Dyn no,” Prompto tries to reason as Ardyn puts the plates down, “no?”

Prompto seems to be trying very hard to communicate the toddler version of _‘what the fuck is this?_ ’. Noctis is still barely conscious. He’s barely paying attention. He seems more interested in the bacon.

“Yes,” Ardyn answers, tapping the tip of Prompto’s nose. “I need another Izunia around here to back me up.”

Prompto’s face contorts into the baby version of _‘what the fuck is that supposed to mean you son of a bitch?_ ’

“You remember the room we got ready, Prom?” Verstael tries to appeal. “I told you; you’re getting a friend.”

Prompto pouts, bottom lip jutting out, and shakes his head. He doesn’t like this.

Verstael hates to admit he was exactly the same as a kid; _hated_ playing with others.

It was some terrifying shit.

That said, Prompto and Noctis are going to have to learn to get along because, like it or not, they’re stuck with each other till they turn eighteen and Ardyn’s plan sets in motion.

“Noctis is like Ardyn,” Verstael tries another vantage. “They’re both magic.”

“Like Dyn?” Prompto supposes sceptically.

“Ahuh,” Verstael nods, “and Noctis needs to stay with us so he’s safe.”

Prompto frowns but doesn’t argue. He seems to be considering that. Another Ardyn? Perhaps not so bad as another Verstael. Maybe Prompto can handle a tiny magician his own age? He certainly seems to be ruminating on it.

Table set, food dished up, Arydn joins them. 

“Aren’t we going to say grace?” Verstael jokes over his coffee as Ardyn picks up his knife.

The Lucian scoffs.

“Tuck in kids,” Ardyn encourages.

Noctis rubs his eyes but starts to eat. He perks a little more as food starts to hit his stomach, glancing around the kitchen.

“Stay here now Vers?” He confirms.

“Ahuh,” Verstael nods.

“Much warmer than living in the snow,” Ardyn nods sagely.

Prompto continues pouting.

Noctis seems much more human when he’s eaten. His bright, unnatural, eyes are looking for entertainment.

“You’ll want all the details, won’t you?” Ardyn supposes to Verstael, slouching back.

“Of the mission? Yeah.” Verstael nods, finishing a crust. “You wanna get them set up for a little while and I’ll put the dishes on?”

“Of course, dear,” Ardyn agrees.

* * *

Ardyn sets the boys up in Prompto’s room with a movie and his assortment of toys. Verstael keeps one ear open for screaming but the howling never comes. He suspects Noctis probably hasn’t played much with other children and Prompto has certainly reaped all the advantages of being an only child. Still, forty-five minutes into their debriefing Verstael has practically forgotten about the tots. They’re so quiet!

Too quiet…?

“Should--?” Verstael pauses, mid thought.

“Vers!” Prompto squeals loudly.

Verstael is up in an instant.

Ardyn follows.

When Verstael reaches the bedroom Noctis and Prompto both grin up at him like they’re the smartest fucking kids in the entire Empire.

Verstael pauses, confused, but—

“Where…?” Verstael gapes dumbly.

Prompto’s room is _empty_.

His toys are gone, the bed is gone, the dresser is gone…

Verstael jerks stupidly back to Ardyn while Noctis and Prompto giggle like they’re exceptionally pleased with themselves.

Ardyn frowns for a second but- “ _Ah_ ,” he whispers, seeming to understand, a grin starting to grow.

“You want to explain this to me?” Verstael grunts.

“Give it a minute.” Ardyn assures. “I don’t think he can hold that much for long at his age.”

“Hold--? What--?” Verstael is so confused.

But then Noctis makes a noise, kind of like a hiccup, an involuntary spasm of sorts either way and then all of Prompto’s things _manifest out of thin fucking air_. As the bed thumps back on the floor Verstael yelps, so startled he almost looses his footing. Ardyn catches him but the children are howling with laughter.

“What was _that?_ ” Verstael demands.

“Well Noctis has an armiger too, of course.” Ardyn shrugs nonchalantly.

Verstael gapes at him, at the delighted children, and slowly starts to realise; Noctis is just like Ardyn. Magic laden to the extreme. He’s also three years old. And Verstael, who has no magic, is going to have to parent that.

“Oh god…” he moans, running a hand over his face.

“On the bright side,” Ardyn shrugs, “they seem to be getting along?”

“Ugh…” Verstael buries his face in his hands.

“You are exceptionally clever,” Ardyn assures both boys. “However did you fit all that in the armiger?”

* * *

By eight thirty that night Verstael isn’t sure why he was ever worried. Prompto and Noctis are getting along like a house on fire. And Verstael is the fire department in this scenario. They’re exceptionally clever and certainly not vengeful but Verstael was not fully prepared for a child with magic. Ardyn steps in, once or twice, but for the most part they manage without his intrusion.

At bedtime Prompto and Noctis refuse to sleep in separate rooms. 

Verstael considers it, weighs the pros and cons, and can’t see a reason to deny them their comfort so…

“Alright,” he throws his hands up. “You can share, I suppose.”

The boys cheer.

So, as if its perfectly normal, the boys nestle down in Prompto’s bed. Ardyn fetches Prompto’s favorite chocobo plush, Noctis fishes Carbuncle out of his armiger, and Verstael is tasked with setting up the night light.

“Goodnight Sunshine,” Ardyn murmurs, “and goodnight to our little prince.”

“Night boys,” Verstael sighs, getting back up to his feet.

“Night!” The children chorus back at him, snuggled down.

This is going to be a learning curve…


	3. Teething

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When he starts sparking, he's your responsibility."

Noctis proves overwhelming for Verstael some days. Noctis, like Prompto, is a sweet child but with all that magic thrumming inside him he’s inclined to mischief.

Verstael would like to allocate all magical teething to Ardyn as a distinctly Lucian problem but when Ardyn is away Verstael has to cope. Noctis does go a little easy on him, seems to appreciate he’s just a feeble human, but that doesn’t mean he turns off all magic entirely.

“Noctis, you’re getting in the bath as soon as I change the water.” Verstael informs the little boy as a still damp Prompto curls up before the TV in their joint room in his PJs with a towel wrapped around his head.

“I dun wanna.” Noctis declares.

“Five minutes.” Verstael replies, refusing to debate. It’s getting late and he doesn’t want the boys falling asleep with wet hair. Noctis might have magic but he’s just inclined to head colds as Prompto.

“But I’m almost done the level!” Noctis whines, controller in hand.

“Don’t care. You’re getting in the bath.” Verstael informs.

Noctis huffs, very displeased, but Verstael doesn’t stick around to argue. He traipses back into the bathroom to change over the dirty water. The hotter the bath can be the better. Everything gets cold so quickly around here during the winter even in the domestic wing with the heating going and the fires blazing. It’s a struggle not to get hypothermia and Verstael’s not a tiny little urchin boy.

Verstael still has his sleeves rolled up when he returns to the bedroom. The boys do, technically, have separate rooms but Prompto and Noctis are so inseparable that in practice it doesn’t really work. They’re always in each other’s beds.

“Alright Noct—” Verstael fumbles, stumbling to stop.

He knew Ardyn could shapeshift, create the illusion of being another person, but he didn’t think Noctis could do that yet.

“Why you little…” He hisses, huffing down at two little Promptos with his hands on his hips. “Noctis Izunia you are getting in that bath.”

The boys exchange a coy glance with matching blue eyes.

Prompto’s not a snitch. He won’t surrender his partner in crime. Verstael appreciates that lesson has stuck but in this case it’s severely annoying.

Growling Verstael unwraps one little head and ruffles the blonde hair. Damp.

He shifts, unwrapping the other blonde head, and—

Dry.

“Bath. Now.” He thrusts his index finger towards the bathroom.

Noctis deflates with a little groan and the illusion fades away.

Verstael tugs him up and Noctis trudges to the bathroom like the most tortured child in the whole Empire. Wicked, awful, Verstael trying to keep him clean! Why on Eos is he so cruel?

* * *

The problem isn’t always Noctis’ intentional misuse of his abilities either. Noctis is powerful, even for a Lucian royal if the reports Verstael has been reading are to be believed, but he has an instinctual control of his abilities. When that control is compromised however…

They’re in Gralea for the summer court, which the children always love, but Noctis comes down with a case of chocobo pox which was bound to happen eventually. Prompto catches it too because, of course he does, and Verstael has to forcefully corral them in the Chancellor’s suite when all they want to do is play in the temporary sun. 

At first it’s not so bad but then the itching starts in earnest and as Noctis scratches passionately, despite Verstael’s chiding, sparks start to come off him. The first arch of electricity coming off him is where Verstael draws the line. He already has his cell in hand when a bolt of lightning rattles off the child and scrambles an MT into a full-on electronic seizure.

Ardyn chooses then to pick up his cell.

“Yes—?”

“Need you.” Verstael snaps, snatching up the fire extinguisher.

“The meeting concludes in about half an—”

“ _Now_.” Verstael stresses, weary of what he can say over the line but quite certain he’s conveying himself clearly.

“On it,” Ardyn snorts, hanging up.

Verstael has to put Noctis in one room, Prompto in another, and reboot the MT before it starts sizzling. It’s fixable but he doesn’t need a literal fire to break out. The problem is they’re in Gralea. With two children who should be _‘normal_ ’ but who very much are not. Verstael knows they can’t afford to raise suspicion.

Ardyn lets himself in just as Verstael is rebooting the MT.

“Problem, dearest?” He supposes innocently.

“Lightning.” Verstael grunts. “When he starts _sparking,_ he’s your responsibility.”

“Oh dear,” Ardyn whistles. “Well, these things happen Verstael.”

“You lit up the spark board when you got chocobo pox?” Verstael supposes accusingly.

“I didn’t have lightning yet,” Ardyn admits. “But, never fear, I can mend this. Just manage for another ten minutes and—”

“Less explaining, more fixing.” Verstael shoos.

Ardyn hurries off and returns ten minutes later with a containment flask from the lower levels. The Niffs use it to store elemental energy for combat use but the system is finicky and Verstael hikes one brow up suspiciously.

“Have a little faith,” Ardyn dismisses him, carrying the flask into Noctis. “Alright little man, important job for you.”

Noctis looks up, miserable and plainly in no mood for Ardyn’s games.

“Itchy,” he grumbles.

“And volatile.” Ardyn agrees. “I want you to shock this canister as much as you can.”

“Why?” Noctis demands.

“So you don’t deep fry Vers or Prompto.” Ardyn shrugs.

“Ardyn—” Verstael raises his voice cautiously.

“It’s an industrial canister,” Ardyn insists. “He shouldn’t even be able to fill the whole thing. It’s fine, darling.”

Noctis glances to Verstael pointedly, looking for the approval of the sane parent.

Verstael throws his hands up; “might as well try it, I guess.”

Noctis grasps the canister tightly and floods the cell with electricity. Ardyn watches, smug and satisfied, but as Noctis continues he looks just ever so slightly concerned. He is aware of Verstael watching him, arms folded, so he tries to maintain an air of nonchalance but he looks certifiably relived when Noctis slumps back and the canister only reads 89% full.

“See?” Ardyn grins. “Now you shouldn’t have any trouble for a while.”

Noctis however looks a little groggy.

“Is he alright?” Verstael supposes.

“He’s already weakened by the contagion and we just exhausted his magic,” Ardyn shrugs calmly. “He’ll probably sleep right through now if you let him.”

“Well…” Verstael sighs. “If he’s asleep he can’t scratch.”

“Exactly!” Ardyn chirps.

“Thank you,” Verstael admits.

“No trouble,” Ardyn assures, standing with the canister. “I should be heading back but I’ll be free after seven.”

“Perfect,” Verstael pauses, adding; “and you’ll just slip that into storage?”

“Yes,” Ardyn sighs. “I can sneak it in. If you were to log into the system and _correct_ the storage catalogue so it’s accounted for…”

“Of course,” Verstael nods knowingly.


	4. Homeschooling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We turned out fine! Mostly."

Verstael and Ardyn do, at some point, have to discuss schooling. Circe Tummelt is sending her ‘ _little angel_ ’ to an expensive boarding school in Altissia and the Emperor has a selection of tutors flown in to for his sickly grandchildren.

“We have to talk security,” Verstael commences the conversation. “It’s a logistical nightmare. If we send Noctis and Prompto to some educational sweatshop in Cartancia how are we supposed to ensure the utmost secrecy?” There are several problems; Prompto’s barcode, Noctis’ growing magic, the fact Prompto doesn’t have a belly button, the fact Noctis was kidnapped…

“We can’t.” Ardyn concludes simply, slouched. “Too many variables. I would take them with me to Gralea but I’d feel much better if they remained North with you for the most part. Too many vipers in the Capital. Tutors perhaps? We could afford to—”

“I’m not having some stranger poking around my facility.” Verstael dismisses. He trusts Prompto and Noctis not to stick their little fingers in anything dangerous but some glorified babysitter? Not a chance.

“Well, I understand that,” Ardyn nods dutifully, “but, annoyingly, they won’t learn to read via osmosis. Little devils…” He sighs, as if the children are really slacking off here.

Verstael taps his desk, thinking hard.

“What was your schooling like?” Ardyn supposes.

“Well,” Verstael snorts, “my parents were always fighting. I was a bargaining chip. Mostly I was cloistered in this or that estate. Left to my own devices I just stuck my nose in whatever looked interesting. I’m of the opinion, personally, that most children are inclined to learn if you let them decide what they want to learn about.”

“I can’t help but agree,” Ardyn admits. “In my day my parents were busy running the clan. The farms, the hunts… We got dragged along to whatever was going or just managed ourselves. I’m pretty sure half of what I learnt was all trial and error when I was left unsupervised on the homestead.”

“Magic?” Verstael prods gently.

“My father used to just mess about with us. We’d go cause trouble in the woods and eventually we picked up this or that so we could play more interesting games. Got my eyebrows singed off when Somnus managed to summon fire before me.”

“Well…” Verstael slouches back himself. “In summary; we don’t trust outsiders and we want the boys close, right?”

“Pretty much,” Ardyn invites him to continue.

“I like to think we’re very clever men,” Verstael shrugs, “so why not try what worked for us? They stay here at the lab, at home. I have an extensive database, a library and a wifi connection that is unrivalled. We let them explore.”

“The woods, the snow…” Ardyn nods along. “You can teach Prompto to shoot at wolves? I can teach Noctis to warp off trees?”

“I don’t see why not?” Verstael shrugs.

“We can certainly try it,” Ardyn consents. “What’s the harm?”

* * *

It seems an uncouth strategy and Verstael is never sure how to explain it at court but it seems to work. Verstael reads with the boys every night, Ardyn every night he’s home, and as they start asking questions Verstael starts providing answers, prompts, projects…

Eventually they’re reading well above their age bracket with a little support. And, yes, some days all they want to do is watch movies or play video games but inevitably they get bored and when they come to Verstael for distraction Verstael always gives them something to investigate;

“Go find me all the most interesting information about the solar system,” Verstael directs one morning.

“Why do some animals make milk and others don’t?” Verstael queries the following day.

“Who wrote the best novel of the last hundred years?” It continues.

On and on it goes…

Soon enough the boys start self-generating questions.

At one point Verstael loses them for a whole week when they become obsessed with the founding of Accordo.

Then Prompto comes, tugging at Verstael’s lab coat, and says; “Vers, we wanna read this but it’s all funny!”

Verstael takes the tech pad and scrolls. It’s some kind of webcomic.

“It’s in Tenebrasian,” he explains.

“What do we do then?” Noctis queries.

“Go learn Tenebrasian,” Verstael instructs, handing the pad back.

The boys exchange a glance.

“Is it like Lucian?” Noctis supposes. Ardyn tends to speak in his native tongue when he’s at home and it’s kept both Verstael and Noctis fluent while simultaneously teaching Prompto.

“A little, same root language.” Verstael nods.

“Okay!” Noctis answers comfortably, taking Prompto’s hand.

And they scurry off.

And, sure as anything, in a few weeks they’re building their fluency in Tenebrasian.

Verstael knows he’s not teaching them anything, not exactly. He’s giving them permission to learn at their own pace and in their own order. He corrects a few things, teaches them about the reliability of sources, but eventually they can navigate the web with enough finesse to explore almost any subject. Occasionally they ask him to order this or that book or DVD and he complies because why wouldn’t he? But for the most part they find their own answers.

They always love showing off what they’ve learnt to Ardyn and, as they’ve never been chastised for having an opinion, they’re fearless about correcting adults when the family is at court. It makes them insufferable to Caligo but Verstael hardly sees that as a negative.

Verstael finds himself in odd conversations as they get bigger.

Noctis corrects another noble child one day, informing her that babies do not in fact come from the _‘the Stork_ ’ or whatever nonsense, and the child’s mother makes a jab at Verstael;

“Aren’t they a little young to know that?”

“You can be too young to know the truth?” Verstael snorts, refusing to back down.

Likewise more than once Prompto and Noctis will use their diligent problem solving skills to sneak out of ‘ _play events_ ’ or past locked doors into places they shouldn’t be.

“Ugh,” Caligo bemoans as he presents them back to Verstael, “they’re not supposed to sneak off!”

“We were bored.” Noctis shrugs. He’s never been asked to sit through something that doesn’t interest him in his entire life.

“That doesn’t mean you should go sticking your noses into things!” Caligo huffs.

Prompto and Noctis glance, confused, at Verstael. Verstael has never locked them out of a room. He tells them this place is dangerous, or he’s working on something private there, or this room needs to be secure while the cells are growing but he’s never child proofed the laboratory.

“You need to discipline them!” Caligo grumbles, turning his ire upwards.

“Discipline them for what?” Verstael scoffs. “I’m not going to punish them for being clever.” 

“They need to follow instructions!”

“Boys,” Verstael taps their shoulders, “go get Ardyn for me, will you?”

They scurry.

Verstael glances pointedly at Caligo who is turning red in the face.

“Seems like they can follow _my_ instructions, General,” Verstael shrugs. “Maybe you just need to rephrase _your_ instructions?”

Ardyn arrives, flanked by boys, and Caligo tries again;

“Your children—!” He begins.

“I know, you needn’t say another word General, aren’t they just darling?” Ardyn fawns.

Caligo hisses, tossing his hands up, and stalks away.

Verstael smirks, satisfied, and will hear no more of it.

Yeah, okay, homeschooling isn’t for everyone but Verstael thinks it’s working just fine for his little evil geniuses.


	5. Firestarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyromaniacs start young in the Empire.

Noctis hates waking up early.

He also hates waking up early to play with Loqi.

Loqi Tummelt is insufferable but given he, Noctis and Prompto are about the same age Lady Circe, Loqi’s mother, insists they socialize when they’re all at court. Verstael tells Noctis it’s a social climbing thing and lots of noble parents see Prompto and Noctis as an easy in. Noctis sort of understands that, he’s been raised in a political climate, but if the Tummelts are just trying to suck up why does Uncle Ardyn keep agreeing to play dates? _They’re awful_.

Loqi has been shuffled between tutors and expensive boarding schools so he is smart enough to keep up with Prompto and Noctis conversationally but because they don’t go to a fancy school Loqi seems to think that means they’re _less_ somehow. Noctis would like to remind Loqi that his Dad takes orders from both of Noctis’ dads but Verstael advises against outright aggression at court.

“You never know who you might need in the long run, Noct.” Verstael tells him.

Noctis thinks that _sucks_.

Noctis settles for microaggressions.

Because while Loqi has a massive ego and a wicked temper he’s also fundamentally outnumbered. Basic math dictates that Prompto and Noctis can always outvote Loqi. Which sometimes still doesn’t help but Noctis uses his advantages as best he can.

That does, occasionally, include intensifying the electricity in his fingertips and passing it off as static when Loqi yelps. Never gets old.

“We should shoot!” Prompto suggest, the only moderating voice between Noctis and Loqi.

Noctis scrunches up his nose.

“Yes!” Loqi agrees. “Let’s do that!”

“Can we use real guns this time?” Prompto is much better with the weight of a real firearm. He’s used to them.

“No!” Loqi huffs. “Don’t be stupid Besithia, that’s not safe!”

Noctis is fairly sure Loqi’s mother would have a heart attack if she knew half the stuff Verstael let’s them do back home but…

“Ugh, fine.” Prompto concedes.

“I’ll judge.” Noctis decides. He’s a good shot but he’s not as good as Prompto and he doesn’t like starting races he can’t win.

“Scared Izunia?” Loqi teases.

“Petrified,” Notics deadpans.

“Can’t say I blame you,” Loqi continues. “I’ve gotten even better since last summer.”

“Oh, so Prompto will only mostly wipe the floor with you?” Noctis smiles, that perfect Izunia ‘ _fuck you_ ’ smile.

Loqi scowls. “Just hurry up.”

A nanny, one of Loqi’s, accompanies them outside and they’re given those stupid toy guns the military dads like starting their kids off with. Verstael finds them laughable. He wanted them to never confuse a weapon for a toy so they’ve always used real weapons.

Prompto is a fantastic shot for his age and after the nanny’s dutifully set up little targets for them she steps back. Noctis doesn’t have to do much but mediate when Loqi complains Prompto’s cheating. Which seems to be every time Prompto gets a bullseye which, to be fair, is often.

It’s an uncharacteristically hot day in the gardens. Noctis rolls his shoulders and watches the little ball bearing bullets skitter into the grass behind the paper targets.

He gets a wonderful idea.

A wonderful, awful, idea.

“Prom,” he calls, “can I have a turn?”

Prompto glances back over his shoulder and Noctis winks.

Prompto grins.

“Course Noct!” He offers the little toy gun.

Noctis takes the motley thing and sets up the shot. He also floods a little fire into the ball bearing. Not a lot. Just enough to make it very, very, hot.

“You’re awful at this Izunia!” Loqi teases when Noctis makes what is, by all accounts, a good shot. The competition is just so stiff it’s obvious he’s shooting below Loqi and Prompto’s skill set.

Doesn’t matter.

Noctis lets off a few more rounds, ball bearings sizzling as they leave the barrel…

Noctis notices the little wisp of smoke in the grass only because he’s looking for it. He doesn’t say anything however and by the time the nanny notices there’s a little inferno quickly searing across the thick manicured grass. The nanny panics, Loqi panics, and Prompto and Noctis are hurried inside while the guards put out the blaze.

Loqi doesn’t cry but he does look shaken and Loqi’s mother has to know everything that’s happening at all times so as soon as word reaches her there was a fire in the vicinity of her precious baby…

Twenty minutes later Circe Tummelt comes to berate the nanny and coddle Loqi. She’s in such a tirade she calls off the rest of the play date because obviously her staff are morons who don’t appreciate the safety of her only son.

Ardyn picks Noctis and Prompto up because he’s closer.

Noctis and Prompto fall into step behind him, holding hands, and Noctis is delighted. He gets to go back to their suite and play videos games with Prompto. He doesn’t have to see Loqi for like three more days.

“I didn’t think it was hot enough for grass fires,” Ardyn remarks casually as they walk.

“It was _really_ hot outside,” Prompto shrugs, equally delighted but significantly better at hiding it. Noctis can never contain his wicked, satisfied, grin.

“Yes, of course,” Ardyn snorts knowingly. “It is a shame you don’t get to finish your date with little Lord Tummelt, right Noctis?”

Noctis can’t outright avoid a direct question so he just grunts; “Yeah…” and scratches the corner of his mouth to try and contain his expression.

“You two are awful,” Ardyn rolls his eyes.

“Are you gonna tell Vers?” Prompto pouts.

“Verstael knows everything, whether we want him to or not,” Ardyn shrugs, “but, if I recall, his mantra is to never punish children for being clever?”

Noctis can’t contain that smirk.

Ardyn ruffles his hair roughly. “That won’t work twice however, you are aware?”

“I’ll just have to come up with a new trick,” Noctis laughs, batting his hand away.


	6. Sickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis feels conflicted for the first time.

Noctis and Prompto are small. Noctis knows this but it’s never bothered him. The Emperor's granddaughter, Sol, was small in a different way. She was bony. She was stretched and gangly and washed out. Noctis is pretty sure the only time he ever saw her eat more than a few bites she was very quickly whisked away to throw up. She just... she wasn't made to last. 

Prompto and Noctis are sheer forces at court. They're always in three different things, always scampering, always up in whatever's happening the moment it happens... They're filled with life. Noctis doesn't really know any other way to be. Verstael and Ardyn are such passionate people they encourage intensity and curiosity and adventure every second of every day. 

Today...

Emperor Aldercapt looks about a hundred and two sitting at the end of the pew. He's in the front row of the Imperial chapel, right side, while the Chancellor and his family are in the front pew left side. Noctis thinks it’s kind of ironic the Emperor looks so old when Uncle Ardyn is literally two thousand years old but... he supposes being distraught makes you look much older than you actually are. 

Noctis glances from Sol's child casket, to the droning cleric, to Uncle Ardyn. He feels... 

He's not sure what this feeling is. It's confusing. 

Ardyn glances down. Ardyn matches his wild blue eyes with his own shade of supernatural gold and slips his arm around Noctis' shoulders as if he senses the displeasure in his ward. Noctis frowns, wanting some help, but Ardyn can't say much right now so they have to look back at the pulpit. 

Noctis holds his frown. He takes in his family; uncanny, unnatural but thriving. He takes in the Emperor and his remaining kin on the opposing side of the aisle. They've been whittled away. They're sick in one way or another or else they're old. Princess Seline is barren, Prince Alric is wrong in the head, Sol's dead, Iedolas is dying...

Verstael has told Noctis that Uncle Ardyn rules the Empire and that they only ' _maintain_ ' Iedolas and, indeed, his family for ' _the sake of appearances, for now_ '. Noctis understands that but he's never really felt the brutality of it. He feels, in this moment, like he's a parasite. A hidden infection leeching the life out of the royal family of Niflheim. It's uncomfortable.

Noctis understands the plan. Uncle Ardyn can only solve the conundrum of the Starscourge with his help. They'll conquer the Long Night, diminish the Astrals and Uncle Arydn will leave Noctis as _'rightful sovereign of the largest Empire Eos has ever seen'_. That starts with Niflheim, then Tenebrae and Accordo, finally Lucius but... 

Uncle Ardyn squeezes him close, somehow knowing like he always does, and Noctis sags into his side. He feels...

Noctis doesn’t pray, Uncle Ardyn has always said the Astrals are their natural enemies, but Notics does chew up his bottom lip and wish, wherever she is, that Sol is healthier and happier than she was here.

It’s the most he can do right now.

One day he’ll be Emperor. One day the Astrals will be gone. People won’t have to suffer like this for plans or prophecies. Uncle Ardyn is doing what he has to do. It’s not good that other people have to suffer for his plan to work but if the Gods hadn’t started this in the first place no one would be hurting.


	7. Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids always have a favourite parent.

Ardyn finds most mortals deplorably irritating. He is easily entertained to this day but there was a time he could see a little good in everyone. Now… well, things are skewed against him in this century. All that understood, given most mortals are insufferable it seems only natural Ardyn goes to such great lengths to protect those special little creatures he does like.

It’s all well and good Verstael hates court so much. It gives Ardyn an excuse to keep him and the children safely cloistered somewhere far, far, away from the cloying wretchedness of the modern world. Ardyn has been in Gralea the last month, leading the ministry, etc. and while the work never stops he finds it much more bearable to reply to emails in the transport on his way up North. Things will only get better; when Verstael puts on a pot of tea and he can hear that technicolor video game the kids are obsessed with in the background he might be inclined to give the plebs in Gralea kinder answers to their questions.

Ardyn tends to walk the last little way up the mountain. He travels light and the cold doesn’t bother him. He’s mostly up the slope when he spots Prompto in the afternoon sun, all rugged up in his jacket and beanie, practising his aim with an assortment of MTs who have been trained to let off clay pigeons for him. Verstael never lets Prompto outside unless he’s properly covered. He’s finicky and protective like that and, to be fair, it does get awfully cold outside for a little boy.

Prompto spots him, head tilting, but Ardyn’s fairly sure the child can’t hear him with those earmuffs on. He waves and Prompto, clever little boy, takes aim. Ardyn snorts, hardly what you’d call concerned, and pauses. Prompto lingers, setting up the shot just so, trying to ensure he doesn’t cap his favourite parent and then pulls the trigger.

There’s the familiar crack of a gunshot and Ardyn’s hat flies clean off.

He cackles, thoroughly pleased, and crosses the last hundred feet to sweep Prompto up into his arms. The child squeals, delighted, and tugs his earmuffs off.

“You’re getting better,” Ardyn greets, ruffling the boy’s perfectly soft blonde hair with his face. Prompto squirms, laughing, but sighs;

“Vers could’ve done when you were still at the fence line.”

“Perhaps,” Ardyn accepts, “but Verstael didn’t start shooting till he was fourteen.”

“Really?” Prompto supposes hopefully.

“Indeed,” Ardyn promises. “Besides, he’s got a head start on you. He’s been shooting a lot longer. You’ll get there, Sunshine. Patience.”

Prompto nods squeezing his arms against him even tighter.

“Shall we go inside?” Ardyn tempts.

“I just started!” Prompto complains. “I still have half a clip!”

“Oh alright,” Ardyn sighs. “But don’t get too cold. Your nose will fall off.”

“Will not!” Prompto snorts.

“Would I lie to you?” Ardyn huffs, very put upon.

“If you thought it was funny? Yeah.” Prompto replies knowingly.

Ardyn sighs, damn kids are getting too clever for his tricks. He’ll have to up the intensity. Another squeeze, a sloppy kiss, and he releases Prompto to continue into the facility.

Prompto feels quite a strong instinct to prove to Verstael that he’s worthy. That he wasn’t a mistake. That he’s special. He wants Verstael’s approval more than anything and while Verstael loves Prompto very much, Ardyn knows, Verstael finds Prompto much easier to criticise than the Izunias if only because he sees so much of himself in Prompto. The sad truth is Prompto _is_ special, even if he’s insecure, because he’s their little boy. One day, Ardyn is sure, he’ll appreciate that but right now he’s eleven and the world seems to revolve around the adults in his life.

Ardyn can’t find Verstael in the laboratory. It’s unlike Verstael to step away from work so early in the afternoon but perhaps Verstael realised he was returning home today? Ardyn peels off his heavy, wet, coat and turns towards the domestic wing.

He realises the scheme afoot the moment he sets a toe inside the living room.

Noctis and Verstael have quite the understanding. Noctis means the world to Ardyn- his heir, his solution to the millennia long problem- but Noctis feels the weight of expectation upon him. Ardyn expects certain things of Noctis he would never put upon a mortal. Noctis loves being special and important but he also finds that quite frightening sometimes. Some days he has no time for Ardyn because he’s pretending to be normal. That’s fine, Ardyn can deal with that, but Verstael?

Verstael thinks Noctis is made of starlight. While Verstael finds it very easy to criticise Prompto the degree of separation between he and Noctis makes his praise very forthcoming with their darker child. Noctis adores it.

Which is probably why, even at eleven, Noctis still falls asleep against Verstael on the couch.

Verstael glances up at Ardyn, one hand in Noctis’ hair, and they both look very pleased with themselves.

“You’d think he was still six years old.” Ardyn snorts, sinking heavily into his armchair.

“Never too old to be spoilt,” Verstael shrugs, downplaying his own affection. Verstael likes to say he finds Noctis ‘ _fascinating_ ’ but while they skirt the words Ardyn knows love when he sees it. He’s not that jaded yet.

Noctis finds Verstael the sympathetic parent. Verstael doesn’t challenge him in the same way Ardyn does. Verstael just pushes him up and makes him feel a million dollars.

Ardyn supposes that’s fair. Both the boys are happy children, all things considered, but they have imposing futures. A grand destiny lies before them. Ardyn has to make sure Noctis is ready for what’s coming and Verstael has to push Prompto to be the best he can be and that’s their job. That said, this? This is equally important. Prompto knowing he will always be the apple of Ardyn’s eye, Noctis knowing Verstael thinks he’s irreplaceable… They need this too.


	8. Foxes in the Hen House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They like to think they're ready for anything. They're not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter this one! Real dramatic!

Noctis is drifting in and out of sleep in Prompto’s bed when he hears movement in the hallway. He keeps his eyes shut, not immediately bothered, and listens.

They’re up North, at the First Magitek Research Facility, where the family lives for most of the year. Verstael has a few assistants who fly in and out for projects and there’s the MTs of course but, for the most part, the only people in the facility are Verstael, Noctis, Prompto and Uncle Ardyn when he’s home from Gralea.

Noctis thinks the feet in the hall sound booted.

Noctis’ brow twitches.

Verstael wears slippers in the domestic wing, if Uncle Ardyn is walking the halls you just plain don’t hear him, and Prompto is lulling in Noctis’ arms equally small and sleepy. That leaves two options; a malfunctioning MT who’s screwed up their guard path or an intruder.

One way to find out.

Noctis squeezes Prompto’s shoulder, testing his grip, and Prompto squeezes his hip back altering Noctis he’s equally awake in the darkness of their bedroom.

They stay still, limp and quiet. The boots creep a little closer to their bedroom and the door is nudged a fraction further open. There’s a pause.

“It’s just the kids.” Someone whispers.

Someone whispers in _Lucian_.

Prompto and Noctis stay perfectly still.

The Lucians, the intruders in their home, seem to decide they’re genuinely asleep and continue on through the domestic wing. As soon as the footsteps move away Prompto and Noctis sit up, quiet as mice, and start moving.

Noctis grabs his cellphone off the headboard and types in the dark to Uncle Ardyn’s cell; [ _Lucians_ ]. While Prompto slips his hand under their bed and pulls out the handgun secreted there for just this kind of purpose.

Noctis and Prompto are twelve years old.

They know how this works.

People have been trying to kill them since before they could walk. Political uprisings, foreign operatives, secret societies… The Besithia-Izunia family has plenty of enemies.

Prompto sits on the edge of the bed, handgun readied at the door in case their guests come back, and Noctis holds the cell in hand, waiting.

Unfortunately for these guys while Uncle Ardyn might be coiled in bed with Verstael like a snake Uncle Ardyn isn’t human and, hence, doesn’t need to sleep.

A few seconds later the reply comes;

[ _Go to the Freezer. Bullets only._ ]

Noctis shows the screen to Prompto and padding, so quietly, on their bare little feet they creep towards the corner of their room. When they were five years old a political uprising in Gralea saw the family separated and outnumbered. Uncle Ardyn and Verstael learnt from that encounter. The children have been trained for events such as this with a military precision. In Gralea they have escape plans, rally points, but in the research facility that is their almost permanent home?

Well, Verstael has long since installed emergency passages.

Prompto activates the hidden door with his barcode and they slip into one such passage. Even if anyone knew about these hidden corridors they’d need some damn good tech to break into one. Following the emergency lights on the floor Noctis leads them down towards the _‘Freezer_ ’. That is; where they store generic MT base bodies before shipping them to other facilities.

* * *

Ardyn is slack in bed with Verstael when the text comes. He doesn’t need to sleep but when the rest of the house quiets down for the night it’s soothing to lie back with Verstael asleep against him for a few hours. He’s not expecting a message from Noctis but he’s not surprised when he reads it.

The footsteps of their guests are still too far away for him to hear just yet but he’s sure they’re coming. Besides, he trusts Noctis’ clever little mind. If Noctis thinks there are intruders in the facility there probably are. Ardyn gives the boys their instructions, clearing them off the playing field to a more secluded corner of the facility where he can sit them until the board is safe. Can’t risk the babies.

Moving quietly Ardyn leans down to squeeze Verstael’s hip.

The blonde mumbles, coming around, and lifts his head to see what the fuss is about.

“Shh,” Ardyn whispers. Holding the phone so Verstael can read it.

Verstael’s eyes blink groggily, once, but then the blonde is sharp and with him. Verstael grabs his gun from the bedside table and getting out of their bed quietly they move to their own emergency passage. It’s not that Ardyn isn’t keen to slice up some Lucians right here in his bedroom it’s just that Verstael will be mightily pissed if they get blood on the new carpet.

Verstael and Ardyn head straight for the command centre for the facility through their personal backdoor. Luckily the Lucian operatives haven’t breached here yet. When they arrive Ardyn flicks the security cameras to life on the main screen while Verstael pulls up a seat.

“How many?” Verstael asks, beginning to type command prompts into the computer.

“Least twelve.” Ardyn counts quickly.

“What about the MTs we had on guard?”

“Looks like they’ve neutralised most of the usual guard array.” Ardyn sighs, spotting MT corpses in this or that hallway. “They’re probably top Kingsglaive. Covert judging by those uniforms.”

“Here to kill Adagium, no doubt,” Verstael snorts. “Well, they’re skilled. I’ll give them that much. Boys?”

“Down in the Freezer. I can see them.” Ardyn smirks, quietly proud. “Lockdown?”

“Initiating.” Verstael assures, pressing another button.

Immediately, like magic, the lights flare to life in every corner of the facility followed swiftly by a cool electronic voice which announces;

“ _A FACILITY WIDE LOCKDOWN HAS BEEN INITIATED. REPEAT. A FACILITY WIDE LOCKDOWN HAS BEEN INITIATED. PLEASE STAY WHERE YOU ARE._ ” 

The Glaive visibly startle and Ardyn can hear a few of them swearing through the audio feed. He checks and, in the Freezer, Noctis and Prompto sink down to sit patiently. They’re such good, clever, children.

Sections of the facility begin to isolate themselves through reinforced steel doors and, of course, all exits to the outside world are now secure. Verstael doesn’t stop typing and they watch as one Glaive deals an elemancy based explosion to one of their steel barricades.

“They came prepared.” Verstael remarks.

“You stay here.” Ardyn taps the top of the control panel. “Keep me posted. I’ll start cleaning house.”

“On it.” Verstael promises. “Slaughter em.”

Ardyn chuckles, letting himself out of the control centre. It’s a good place to start. If the Glaive are smart they’ll be heading here to neutralise the lockdown.

* * *

The Freezer is definitely eerie but its one of the most secure spots in the facility. It’s a little chilly, especially if you’re in your PJs, but no one’s getting in here without a _lot_ of explosives. Besides, if they’re Lucians they’re probably not interested in empty MTs. They probably want to kill Uncle Ardyn.

Noctis presses his hands between his knees and keeps one eye trained on the far door between the pods. Prompto weighs his handgun in his palm and glances stiffly around the chamber.

“I hate this place,” Prompto grumbles.

“They’re just MTs, Prom,” Noctis assures.

“They look like _me_ ,” Prompto whispers.

“They’re not like you though,” Noctis maintains. “You’re special.”

“I guess…” Prompto mumbles. He tries to pass his rubbing off as chill induced but Noctis knows he’s scratching at his barcode.

Noctis tries not to draw attention to it but reaches to hold Prompto’s hand.

They sit there, quiet and still, for another few moments. There’s nothing to do except wait until the adults come and get them.

“Noct…?” Prompto stiffens. “Do you see _her?_ ”

Noctis lifts his head, a rod of ice running down his spine when, yes, he does see the lady Prompto’s talking about. She’s tall, dark. But she’s not armed. She looks more a like a noble lady than a warrior from Lucis. Noctis is frozen by her and her closed eyes and—

Prompto yanks him and they skitter behind another row of tanks.

“How did she get in here?” Prompto hisses.

“I don’t…?” Noctis feels his whole body tingling. He knows they need to hide but he wants to go to her. He feels it in his blood. There’s something about her.

In his hand the cellphone buzzes.

He’s so busy watching the strange lady traipse soundlessly between the rows he doesn’t think to answer it. Prompto yanks it out of his hand and presses it to his ear.

“Vers?” He whispers.

“ _What’s wrong?_ ” Verstael’s voice asks through the cellphone.

“There’s a lady in here.” Prompto answers, voice tinged with a note of urgency.

“ _Where?_ ” Verstael demands.

“Row B.” Prompto whispers. “I can see her. She’ll pass the camera in three…two…”

“ _She’s not showing up on camera_ …” Verstael murmurs, and even Noctis can hear the tension.

“But I can see her,” Prompto insists. “Noct sees her too.”

“ _Head back, Row J, and take the passage towards Library 2._ ” Verstael instructs quickly. “ _Don’t engage._ ”

“Right,” Prompto nods, ending the call and grabbing Noctis’ hand. “Come on,” he orders, tugging Noctis after him.

They stumble, barefoot, down the rows towards another emergency passage but for a second Noctis loses sight of the Lady in black and when they round another row she’s right in front of them. Noctis knows that’s not possible. She shouldn’t be able to move that fast.

The boys halt, panicked, and Prompto starts to back up but Noctis is frozen in place.

“Who are you?” Noctis demands.

“I am Gentiana, Messenger of the Gods,” she murmurs, low and clear.

Prompto raises his handgun, just as he was taught. Chances are it won’t do them any good but Noctis knows from a lifetime of having it hounded into his head that the Gods of the Six aren’t on their side.

“What do you want?” Noctis presses.

“The warriors of Lucis bring a wicked weapon from Bahamut.” Gentiana answers. “The Starscourge must not fight them if he is to succeed. You must leave this place.”

Noctis frowns, glancing wearily to Prompto.

“Since when do you lot want to help _us?_ ” Prompto grumbles, voice tight and small but all his father’s guts.

“It is complicated.” Gentiana admits. “I cannot speak of it now, but I mean you no harm.”

“Sounds really vague,” Prompto warns, flicking off the safety on his handgun.

“Will you shoot me, Prompto Besithia?” Gentiana supposes, head tilting.

“We’ll take your warning on advice.” Noctis promises, trying to avoid a full blow up. “You can leave now.”

Gentiana seems to hesitate but—

The phone in Prompto’s pocket starts buzzing violently. It startles both boys and when they glance back up Gentiana the Messenger is gone. Noctis quickly grabs the phone from Prompto’s pocket so he can keep the handgun primed while Noctis answers.

“Vers?” He supposes.

“ _What the fuck are you doing?_ ” Verstael snaps. “ _I told you not to engage!_ ”

“Sorry Vers,” Noctis winces.

“ _Is she still there? I can’t see anything damn it Noct!_ ”

“She’s gone,” Noctis promises. “She said she was a Messenger. She said she wanted to help us.”

“ _Help us how?_ ” Verstael presses.

“She said the Lucians brought something, a weapon from Bahamut, she said Uncle Ardyn will lose if he fights them.”

There’s a long, tense, pause. Noctis can feel the gears turning. Why would a Messenger of the Six help them? What if this is a ploy? Verstael hisses audibly on the phone.

“ _Go to Library 2_.” Verstael orders. “ _I’ll call Ardyn. If you see her again you run. Do you understand me?_ ”

“Yes Vers,” Noctis promises.

“ _Go._ ” Verstael grunts, hanging up.

* * *

Verstael doesn’t like people sneaking into his home. He doesn’t like close quarters combat with human combatants. You want to know what he likes even less? Close quarters combat with _gods_. He’s just a human, frequently outclassed, but against gods? They’re not ready to fight gods. They haven’t got the equipment ready yet.

Verstael scans the cameras. The Lucians have regrouped in the hangar with the help of their elemental explosives but they don’t seem to be trying to escape. They’re preparing for Ardyn to reach them. 

Swearing Verstael presses call on his cell again, scanning the screens.

“Ardyn—” he starts.

“ _They’re in the hangar, yes?_ ” Ardyn supposes. _“Seems the logical rally point. Heading there now—_ ”

“Will you shut up?” Verstael snaps. “The boys saw something.”

“ _Something?_ ” Ardyn supposes but he doesn’t pause stalking down corridor 16.

“A Messenger.” Verstael tries to understand. “She gave them a warning, or something, said the Lucians have a weapon from Bahamut.”

“ _Oh do they?_ ” Ardyn laughs.

“It could be a trap.” Verstael says what they’re both thinking.

 _“Maybe, but_ _I hope they do have a fancy new weapon,_ ” Ardyn trills, riled by the prospect. _“I would so love to break another of Bahamut’s pretty toys._ ”

“Please don’t do anything stupid.” Verstael presses.

“ _Me? Stupid? Perish the thought._ ” Ardyn laughs but Verstael can feel his attention is elsewhere. He’s excited. He’s distracted.

Fuck.

“I can detonate a charge in the hangar remotely,” Verstael tries to reason, “you should loop back round and get the boys.”

“ _I’ll clear out the Lucians. Save you remodelling the hangar._ ” Ardyn maintains, closing in on his destination.

“Ardyn—” Verstael tries one last time.

“ _It’ll be fine, Verstael_.” Ardyn grunts, hanging up.

Verstael can’t help it.

Something just doesn’t feel right.

Fuck, fuck…

Verstael knows if he leaves the command centre it’ll be much harder to keep tabs on the fractured factions of his tiny family. He can see the boys making their way to Library 2 but anything could happen on the way there. Still…

Something’s wrong.

Verstael’s not superstitious but he trusts his gut.

The Lucians are doing something weird in the hangar. It almost looks like they’re preparing for a summoning…?

 _Fuck_.

Ardyn’s not thinking clearly and if Ardyn goes down they’re all doomed.

Verstael hurries up from the control panel, swipes a rifle from the case by the door, and breaks into a sprint towards the hangar.

He just hopes Ardyn doesn’t get his head blown off before he gets there.

* * *

Maybe Ardyn is a little distracted but he’ll make it up to Verstael later. Sometimes a man just has to treat himself, enjoy life’s little joys… And sometimes those little joys include ripping something pretty into pieces. He summons Rakshasa from his armiger for the adventure.

He’s going to enjoy this.

Sure enough when he bursts into the hangar the remaining Lucians are gathered to perform a summoning. Fancy thing at that! They’ve got speciality runes and everything! It’s not going to help them. Ardyn doesn’t care if they unleash the Stormbringer on the base. He’ll still win.

Ardyn knows, technically, that he turned the fighting dirty when he stole the Chosen King. In claiming Noctis, in violently attempting to subvert the prophecy, he threw down the gauntlet. However much Lucis does or doesn’t know, however high his current chance of success against Bahamut, the _‘good guys_ ’ will have to work hard if they want to throw things back on course. That means giving Ardyn a massive kick in the balls, probably killing the Besithias, taking Noctis back to Lucis… All things Ardyn won’t stand for.

Everyone’s walking out of this hangar a head shorter.

Ardyn decides, still, that it would be very rude not to let the Lucians finish their summoning. He does want to see what all the fuss is about after all!

He watches, sauntering closer, as their chanting entices the runes to spark. It’s getting warm in here, it even smells like wheat…?

Strange.

Ardyn frowns, watching as the summoning starts taking its toll. The Lucians are dropping; falling dead as sacks of meat on the concrete. Obviously the summoning has a high cost. They start to seem less and less significant however as that smell intensifies and the light at the centre of the summon starts to take shape.

Ardyn’s head tilts, gently at first, but…

Ardyn takes a step closer, then another. He knows that shape…

As the last Lucian starts to sink to his knees Ardyn drops Rakshasa and stumbles stupidly into the circle.

It can’t be.

Ardyn tries to find his voice as she turns towards him.

He can’t manage much.

“Aera…?”

He’s trying to find words.

He’s supposed to be thinking, he knows that, but for a split second all thought of his life, the boys, Verstael… it all fades into a droning haze of background noise. For a second she’s all he sees.

She smiles at him, sad and small, like she’s scared.

“Aera…” Ardyn can’t manage anything else.

He reaches for her, spellbound, and she gathers him up and—

Ardyn chokes, blood and bile catching in his throat, as she drives her nails into his chest through his night shirt. The Scourge inside him screams, inchor bubbling down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes, and he realises too late what’s happening.

She—this proxy _thing_ —she’s purifying him.

It’s a trap.

She follows him onto the concrete. Climbing on top of him and holding him down. He grasps her wrist but she’s got her claws dug deep, anchored in his skin, and the light she floods through him is boiling the plasmodium cells in his body. She’s searing everything that makes him.

He realises, choking on his own blood, that he’s in real trouble here.

He can’t move. 

His hand goes limp around her wrist.

A bullet whizzes through her suddenly but she doesn’t take her eyes off Ardyn; that same sad smile pinning him down like a weight. Two more bullets blast through her. The discharge is louder, closer, now but she doesn’t even flinch.

Ardyn gargles, unable to do much else, eyes locked with Aera’s unwavering double.

Rakshasa slides suddenly though her middle, impaling her from behind, and her eyes bloom, mouth falling open—

She releases Ardyn, garbling, but as she turns back to face her attacker Rakshasa sinks into her a second time. Between the ribs this time. Ardyn can’t move but he watches as she lurches, hiccuping, the blade twisted between her ribs _angrily_.

Rakshasa is withdrawn and her spasming body is kicked off Ardyn’s middle like it’s trash.

Verstael drops his sword and sinks to his knees over Ardyn.

“Ardyn,” he hisses, “are you—? Fuck, you’re _bleeding_.”

Verstael’s hands grope over him, applying pressure to his wounds, but without the light of the gods tearing through him Ardyn’s Scourge, slowly, starts to multiply again. The infection starts to fill the gaps, growing back like a harshly trimmed weed, and with a gasp Ardyn finds some of his strength coming back.

“Ardyn?” Verstael frets, holding the wound on his chest closed still. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Ardyn garbles stupidly.

It was such an obvious trap. A trick.

And he totally forgot about everything in the face of it.

He forgot about the boys, about the plan, he forgot about Verstael and if Verstael hadn’t come to save him he’d be—

“I’m so sorry,” Ardyn repeats.

“Oh shut up,” Verstael snaps, but he looks so worried. “You can apologise later. Tell me you’re okay first, you idiot.”

“I’ll be alright,” Ardyn admits sheepishly. “You got here before…” Before irrevocable damage could be done. Before Bahamut slaughtered him with a cheap trick.

Verstael leans over him, pushing his hair out of his face, and sags with what must be relief.

Ardyn’s such an idiot.

“ _Don’t do that_ ,” Verstael hisses. “We’re screwed without you. I can’t…” Verstael takes a deep breath and can’t seem to look at him. Verstael gets so embarrassed by his own feelings but Ardyn can see them.

“I’m sorry,” Ardyn repeats. “Thank you, Vers…”

* * *

Noctis and Prompto are blissfully ignorant of the drama unfolding in the hangar but Noctis can feel the air shift back. Things are normal again, somehow…?

They get a text a few moments later, to head back to the domestic wing, and Noctis takes Prompto’s hand and leads the way.

“Ardyn!” Prompto lurches out of Noctis’ fingers when they round the corner.

Noctis stumbles. Uncle Ardyn has always been a force, seemingly unstoppable, but he’s limping. He’s all sagged into Verstael who seems to be struggling to hold them both up.

Prompto hurries up to him and seems to notice, in time with Noctis, the blood and the gnarly rips in his nightshirt.

“You’re hurt!” Prompto splutters.

“Just need to rest up,” Ardyn assures, “I’ll be fine, Sunshine.”

“Did we…?” Noctis stumbles up behind them.

“We won,” Verstael promises. “Now let’s go sit down. Your Uncle’s _heavy_.”

Ardyn smiles, but Noctis can see the apology in his eyes.

Noctis doesn’t know what happened and Verstael won’t tell him but he senses they got very close to losing tonight.

Verstael helps Ardyn sit down on the couch and in short order Ardyn is gesturing for both the boys. Noctis and Prompto tuck against his sides tightly, more frightened than they’ve been all night, and Ardyn has to hiss and laugh;

“Easy boys, easy…” He squeezes them gently. “Let’s not crush the merchandise.”

They try to slacken but Prompto looks pale and nervous despite all the casual laughs.

Noctis isn’t sure they’ll ever tell him exactly what happened but when Prompto scurries into the kitchen to help Verstael prepare warm drinks Ardyn squeezes Noctis dangerously close and whispers;

“We’ve got to remember, little prince mine,” he murmurs, “this is what matters. You understand?”

“I…” Noctis nods stupidly into his shoulder. “Yeah, Uncle Ardyn. I get it.”

“There’s a boy,” Ardyn sags, tired. “I can’t lose you. It…”

“You won’t.” Noctis promises.

“It’s easy to forget sometimes, with all our magic, to stay grounded. Without Vers…” Ardyn doesn’t finish the thought but Noctis thinks he understands. They’re not gods. Creatures like Ardyn, like Noctis, they need to remember they’re mortal. They need Prompto and Verstael to keep them focused, anchored.

Ardyn tugs Noctis closer again, kissing the top of his head.

“I can’t let them get you,” he whispers, “or else it’ll all be for nothing.”

Noctis tucks up closer.


End file.
